The Path to Awesomeness
by Shiroiyuki3
Summary: *I will not lick the First Years*, he made her write 100 times on the board. *Even if they're tasty.* Just one of many rules to break at Hogwarts, and she's determined to hit every one. Not your typical Sue story. OC/SS
1. Step 1: Make a Killer First Impression

Done fof the HPFC's "The things I am not allowed to do at Hogwarts" challenge. Nothing is mine except for Mary. And even she is partly borrowed by those who've come before me...

_A warning to all readers:_ _Please do not take this fanfiction seriously as even the writer herself could not. Cheers._

**The Path to Awesomeness**

**Step One: Make a **_**Killer**_** First Impression**

For this purposefully unidentified year, a transfer student was brought in to sort of...liven up Hogwarts in all its stuffy British Polly-poof glory. Only...no one knew that at the time.

Oh no on the contrary, most were convinced she was here to simply learn and to be taught like any other good student. Only later did they realize the uncomfortable horrors this girl would soon release.

Looking back, Albus Dumbledore would always cling to the weather being off or his spectacles being dirty the day he first introduced himself to her. He just didn't see Trouble when it flashed its 'I HEART ZOMBIES' t-shirt and stone-washed bellbottom jeans.

Or when its cell phone's unusually loud ringtone turned out to be 'Amish Paradise'.

This new student was just some random girl on tour in London, who happened to demonstrate a bit of magic at the wrong place and the wrong time. Attempted to be discreet in a crowded café, as if that ever worked.

Little did she know the Wizarding World's Greatest was sitting a few tables over, absently finding out how many sherbet lemons he could fit into his mouth at one time.

It intrigued Albus to see her skills, especially since she risked so much for such a silly thing. More mini marshmallows; her cocoa apparently wasn't complete without them (although already brimming over with a generous portion). She had stared and stared at the source of her sugary goodness and wrinkled her nose, then at the last moment when Albus thought for sure she meant to relieve herself, the girl cocked her eyebrow in a funny sort of '_I used to be a mad scientist; now I just have Parkinson's_' kind of way...and suddenly the bag appeared at her side.

He was astonished. She looked blankly at her treasure and then ate a handful of marshmallows without noticing anything was wrong.

Curiously, at that very moment Albus saw something of himself in her. This girl would be a student of his if he had any say in it at all. Which he did. It was good to be Headmaster.

A boasting privilege for almost three whole days, in the beginning the old wizard would sit back and brag he just _sensed_ something important would happen the day he found poor Mary lost in her world of muggles. It was all his fau—er, credit that this girl came to Hogwarts at all.

Truly, at first Mary was amazing. She didn't even realize she was a witch! She laughed her ass off when Albus explained. If he remembered correctly, instead of trusting him outright as originally planned she called him a senile old loon and flipped him off.

He smiled fondly at the memory.

"Listen Santa, I think you should recheck your meds. The only magical thing in my life happens to be caffeine, which I already have plenty of, thanks."

"My dear," Albus graciously plowed past this new nickname, "how else would you explain that silent accio charm?"

"....I finally mastered the Force?"

Well, truthfully the old wizard had doubted what he'd seen at first too, almost missing it completely had he not glanced over to check the clock right behind the girl's highchair.

As it was she used no wand at all, a funky lavender octopus keychain taking its place. Mary clutched it as she stink-eyed the waitress whose man-hands held hostage her marshmallow prize. Again, looking back Albus tried to convince himself she simply transfigured her wand into an inconspicuous ... cartoony mollusk (?)...but after a while her company proved this was not the case....

Hmm...

So anyway, here the story goes back to when this girl first transferred to Hogwarts against her better judgment, standing awkwardly tall among the group of first years at the Sorting. She of course was far from being a first year – past eighteen, though this was never fully disclosed – but traditions were traditions.

And until she could rile up the place a bit the girl was willing to humor most of them.

"Suevoumonteasey, Mary!" Professor McGonagall yelled above the crowd, adjusting her square glasses when the tall well-developed American stepped forward. Obviously Minerva hadn't been told this would be no eleven year old.

"Er, uh...just sit right there young la – uh, sure."

Mary squashed onto the stool and huffed cynically to herself, taking in all the gawking faces around the Hall. This year would be quite different she concluded with disappointment. Not a fun looking stooge in the whole bunch. Just how was she to cope with this inhospitable dork-a-thon ? How would she find enjoyment in beating up straight-laced tea bags and pansy-boys?

And how _exactly_ would she manage with boring minions? She couldn't handle the thought!

But, at least Santa seemed pleased with this arrangement. She'd ask him for a bicycle later on.

Mary sighed and looked back at McGonagall – who had somewhere in this time forgotten she was still holding the crux of this event. A blush or two later, the old lady snapped into action.

As soon as the hat touched Mary's head it rang with disgust.

"Oh just _lovely._

"I, the last surviving influence of Gryffindor _himself_, outlive the ages collecting dust at the bottom of a hat box and for _what_? So some greenhorn foreigner can dirty up my brim with her –" it sniffed deeply, like any hat would do, "– cheap American shampoo and leave-in conditioner!?

"Eh, put the American in....I don't care...Hufflepuff or what have you. Bloody Americans, always ruining our good time..."

"Hey, – question."

"_What?_" The hat's gruff wheeze sounded vaguely surprised, "...Yes?"

"Say I don't like Hufflepuff. What's your return policy?"

"....We don't have one."

"I mean, okay _Hufflepuff_." Mary shrugged without concern, "Sounds good in theory I guess, I might make a few lackeys or something. They _are_ a soft sort of breed.

"But what if I suddenly find myself wanting to try on a new tie? Switch robe colors? Live somewhere besides a freakin' _Hobbit Hole?_

"Am I always to be confined to this House or can I elect to trade if dissatisfied?"

For several seconds the hat was speechless. Then at last it spoke.

"Bloody Americans."

"Sure, sure. But what of my House?" She remained impassive, frowning slightly.

"PICK ANYONE YOU WISH, YOU FILTHY WHINER!"

"...I choose you, _Pikachu?_"

"SLYTHERIN. _NEXT._"

Mary frowned again.

Not about getting nowhere with the hat, I mean – who _really_ cared what a crinkly old hat thought anyway? No, she frowned because she had only just realized why this seemed familiar to her. Why – since the moment she managed to conjure those mini marshmallows – she'd been having the damnedest déjà vu:

She'd been here before.

Okay, frankly that was impossible. The one rational strand in her mind was squeaking its disapproval at this very thought. Before Santa found her in the café she was nothing more than muggle, if that. She hadn't physically been inside Hogwarts before tonight.

No...it was almost as if she'd...read all this in a book or something.

But for her to read (well, read something besides the Skeptical Inquirer at least), was as rare as a unicorn dipped in chocolate sauce. Sprinkled with crushed nuts – no, toffee chips. Or those chocolate minty things she absolutely adored. Ohh – peanut butter chips. Forget the mints; yes, it was settled. Peanut butter chips.

Or perhaps a blend. This was _just too hard._

There would definitely be whipped cream and a cherry somewhere in the mix, mini marshmallows...

Gah.

Now not only did Mary feel she knew this place like the back of her hand (to her surprise she later tested this theory and was taken aback at how unfamiliar the back of her hand actually looked, but that's a tangent we won't go on just now) but her stomach growled something fierce. Everything really _was_ too familiar for comfort.

She frowned again just in time to lock eyes with a boy in the crowd. One...with a wicked _awesome_ tattoo on his brow! She squinted from her perch on the stool, ignoring the fact that not too far behind her an eleven year old was now weeping over his Sorting's delay.

From here that tattoo almost looked like...like...some sort of _staircase!_ Maybe it was a metaphor or something. _The_ _Staircase_ _to_ _Pimples..._ Didn't that just sound deeply metaphorical? Probably not. Actually it sounded like a really funky Hardy Boys episode where Frank might discuss the aches of adolescence.

Mary shrugged and jumped off just before McGonagall could threaten House Points.

Disregarding the order of things, Mary moseyed her way from the Great Hall without staying for the meal, hands stuffed in jean pockets (after taking off those God-awful robes of course. Layering really did help in a pinch) and having nowhere to go. This all just seemed too familiar, she had to investigate.

She figured the floating candelabra were simply a trick of the mind, and the old guy she still referred to as 'Santa'...some inside joke gone terribly wrong. How badly she longed to pull that fake beard off and point and laugh.

And not far from Santa's left she couldn't help notice a little elf fellow, who overcompensated his stunning lack of height with an equally stunning lack of fashion sense. Damn thing looked like a beaver in a suit. Usually midgets freaked her out but all she wanted to do was make him sing songs of Oz and hold a lollipop.

Great fun this place.

But none of this prepared Mary for what was to come, as she stared mouth agape at several moving portraits in the corridor. They definitely presented a challenge to her semi-sane mind.

Little people – _actual_ little people (not just Mr. Beaver) – stared up at her from the canvas! And holy hell one of them _spoke_. Then another. And _another._ It was a growing trend, just like herpes.

Each and every one of them seemed......almost alive...

Freakin'..._sweet_.

It was so curiously satanic that the girl lost herself in uncovering its secret and for several seconds could do nothing but experiment.

"I say, girl, I _SAY_ – _do_ stop that incessant POKING. Some of us more civilized members of society consider it _rude_." said a squat little knight over folded arms and armored beer-belly.

"Hmph. Kids these days and their abhorring manners."

For several seconds Mary remained silent and unmoving.

Then in a sadistic flash, the sharp _swish_ of a knife was heard over the din of painted screams.

"_Sweet_..."

"Students are to remain in the Great Hall until dismissed," A dangerously low voice interrupted from behind, making the girl curse and withdraw her blade.

Mary turned and found herself staring at the Adam's apple of a rather greasy looking...well, git, whatever that meant. Funny how the word just came to her like that.

She frowned and looked up a few more inches until her eyes roughly met his. Couldn't help but notice his mouth, which when he wasn't yelling, was affixed into a god-ugly sneer. One just knew by looking at that thick frown the yellow teeth beneath were in a poor state.

She shook her head sadly. But tips on dental hygiene would have to wait.

He looked sour and bitter and oddly satisfied at what he'd just done. He also needed a good bath as far as she could tell.

"Ten points from...what was it again? Hufflepuff?"

"Dude I don't care," Mary snorted suddenly as she shrugged into a more relaxed stance. It felt better to let down her shoulders, which had crept up and bowed forward into the standard evil 'no-neck' pose sometime beforehand.

Her voice became distorted with parody, "Take my points if you must; strike me down while you can. But _I shall have the fat one for my own! MWHAHAHAHA..._"

She suggested with a wave of her hand the beer-gut tin man who had given his opinion earlier. He shivered and hid behind a rock in his painting.

Snape sneered and drew himself to his full height.

"You will address me in the proper manner and speak with respect. Ten _more_ points from Hufflepuff."

"_Why so serious?_" Her twisted reply and half-spirit fingers taunted. Her tongue was threatening to stick out at any moment.

The glow of Snape's last victory died abruptly with the girl's insubordination.

"Ten more from Hufflepuff!"

Mary laughed, unaffected.

"Man, I should tell you – I'm not even a Hufflepuff."

For a moment Snape looked genuinely befuddled. Then sick realization seeped in and his features told the tale of a man learning for the first time that his death would be slow and painful. She was a Slytherin. She was in _his_ House.

Merlin help him.

"...Back," He couldn't quite will himself out of the shock, making his voice fall quite toneless and flat, "to the Great Hall with you. Leave my sight."

The girl frowned with disappointment.

"But...the fat one has insulted my honor. For that he shall _die_..."

She made several uncertain pouty noises and held out her knife with longing, only to be waved away by Snape.

"Leave."

Mary sighed heavily, defeated. Her knife was slipped back into the pocket of her jeans and, with folded arms, she gave one more fruitless pout before turning back toward the Great Hall.

"_I'll be back for you later, Tin Man."_ She whispered darkly much to the portrait's chagrin. Her lopsided maniacal sneer caused little painted sweat drops to form on his brow. Mary made the universal sign of death with a finger swipe across her neck. "Shhhhkkk."

She was just about to the doors when Snape once again stopped her.

"You will wear your student robes at all times," he indicated warningly to the pile of forsaken wool near the wall, "Miss...Su....Suzu...."

"–Suevousmonteasey."

"Yes, that."

Mary rolled her eyes and sighed with fervor. She threw her arms into the air with great theatre-common finesse.

"TCH, _FINE_. I'll wear the schoolgirl outfit! But I absolutely _refuse_ to roll my skirt past my upper thigh, no matter how much you beg."

And with that she nabbed the heap of robes and ducked inside the Great Hall, leaving a flustered and very dour-faced Snape alone to fester in his thoughts of murder and who knows what else.


	2. Step 2: Always Come Prepared

_Again, make sure to go in with your dry humor equipped. This story is definitely not to be taken seriously. _

_Seriously._

**The Path to Awesomeness**

**Step 2: Always Come Prepared**

Her first class was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall.

She had left the Slytherin dormitories early to find the classroom, completely ignoring that guy from last night as he descended the stairs, scowl firmly in place. He once again demanded she wear those itchy wool robes, much to her chagrin, making her return to fetch them out of the trash – er...closet.

Although an insult begged to be said, nothing would stop her from getting to class today. Nothing! So she simply stuck out her tongue and breezed past him. Who did he think he was, anyway? Batman?! (*)

Whatever, so the girl went off – confident she could tackle anything.

As it was, Mary arrived precisely ten minutes before class ended.

...

It was the goddamn staircases. Or the portraits, Mary couldn't quite decide. Tin Man must have tipped them off because, while she couldn't find _him_ anywhere, the rest had enthusiastically given her bad directions every chance they got.

Twice Mary ended up at the library, once at a giant portrait of fruit where a talking elf-thing screamed and hastily started punishing itself for being rude (this was a very weird thing to witness, by the way, and the girl really had no idea why she kept crying the phrase, 'OH THE HUMILIATION!' just to see him hit the wall harder...), and once actually back in the dungeon she started from.

Tin Man would definitely be punished.

Mary was only half joking before about liberating him from his portrait, but now she was certain. At the time, you know, her threat was funny and she just so happened to have easy access to a knife. Had run with it like so many other on-the-fly ideas.

But now, oh..._now_ that glorified watercolor ashtray would pay. Even better, _Batman(*) _would be nowhere in sight when it happened. He must have been the janitor or something, always...skulking in the shadows. Ugh.

(*)Those first years she mugged earlier on the way to the seventh floor were quite right; the dude with the ugly sneer really _did_ look like a giant bat flapping around the castle. Harmless, in all probability; most of the really exceptional bastards were. Although that sour disposition would definitely be the death of his social life.

The girl sighed deeply and shook her head, staring at the door. Time to go in.

'Better late than never' wasn't really a saying she used often and, walking into Transfiguration as suavely as possible, Mary finally remembered why. Sure, the situation would probably have gone down a bit better had she not first caught her foot on a desk, cursed colorfully at the pain, flailed about, cursed again, only to take down some unsuspecting Gryffindor in the process.

McGonagall seethed with anger.

"Young lady, I expect you to be punctual or to not show up at all."

The old biddy looked her up and down and fumed once more.

"And to bring the required materials to every class!"

"Ah, there's a reason for tha –"

"– You shall remain after class to discuss your detention."

Mary sat down and leaned back in the chair, folding her arms.

"You don't even want to hear why I'm without books?"

"Shall I make it _two_ sessions and take away House Points?"

"Be my guest, Hufflepuff already hates me."

Mary had randomly left her books behind, like breadcrumbs on a twisting, changing path. Funny how that didn't seem like such a grand idea now, once she had to stare this stern-mouthed, wrinkled _pit bull_ in the face. She shrugged. Stuffy, grey haired, overbearing –

"As I was saying, your knowledge of transfiguration need not end at simple objects."

When McGonagall was quite certain there'd be no more lip from _that one_, she continued in her lesson – which had been interrupted most rudely with only six minutes of class to spare.

"One day, with dedication, time, and practice, you may find that anything – be it those matchsticks on your desks or an entire room of odds and ends – can be willed and changed completely to fit your fancy."

The professor smartly transfigured a rat into a goblet before their eyes.

She looked rather proud for a moment, waiting for the appropriate 'ooohs' and 'aaaahs' from the on-looking crowd. Then, with the well-rehearsed grandeur of a stage queen, she strode to her desk, paused for effect, then turned back to the masses.

"And perhaps," She flashed a sly smile, "Even yourself."

And with that she was no longer the old witch they all had been staring at, but a large and round tabby. The girl didn't applaud like everyone else but instead wore a slight frown.

Then somewhere far away a light finally clicked on, turning that frown upside down!

When class was dismissed and the girl still sat at her desk, playing with a large silver pocket knife, the cat started talking to her.

Well, okay, the _woman_ _formally known to the story as a cat_ started talking to her. Somehow, and don't ask Mary when it happened because frankly she didn't notice any difference at all... McGonagall had transformed herself back into a bitter old lady. But why an old lady?

I mean, you'd think with her skill she'd at least shoot for somewhere younger than the original. Fifties, sixties...even a woman in her seventies would be far more appealing than this. Mary rubbed her chin in thought, cocking an eyebrow.

"We shall now discuss proper punishment for your actions in my classroom today, Miss Suevoumonteasey. It was uncalled for – your display. Interrupting my class, showing up unprepared! You shall have to make up your failings in two sessions of Saturday morning detention."

Mary, who had been expected to whine and cry, or at least shake a bit, sat there calmly.

Then she nodded in stride.

Just when McGonagall thought she'd go crazy waiting for some kind of reaction, the girl smiled. Something about this wasn't right and the professor crinkled her eyebrows with frustration.

The next words out of Mary's mouth made the old lady reel with shock.

"Here, kitty."

The older woman scanned the room briefly for something – anything – that resembled another cat...then settled like a wimp back onto the mischievous eyes of Mary.

"Heeere, kitty-kitty."

McGonagall's breath became ragged, her thoughts swimming wild in her head. This girl couldn't actually be saying what she thought she was saying, right? Evidentially, yes, yes she was. This was unprecedented and...and...highly unacceptable! The professor whimpered for being caught so off guard.

The next attempt involved a little satchel of something which made the old lady's eyes widen and then shudder closed in longing.

"...Would _wittle-kitty_ _wike some catnip_?"

No! No, this was highly inappropriate. The professor straightened as best as she could and shook her head to clear her thoughts. But that smell, that sweet tantalizing perfume...

No!

"_Kitty_...?"

Mary's voice was sex itself to the other woman's ears. And that bag, that blasted beautiful unearthly _pleasurable_ bag! The girl held it up in a halfhearted taunt and baby-talked the now practically intoxicated professor.

"_Catnip for_ _kitty_?"

"...._meow...._ I mean, Miss Suevu...Suevuu....Su..."

She trailed away, watching the satchel now bounce happily between the girl's hands. Her eyes darted back and forth, back and forth, bag...hand...bag...hand....bag....bag....GAH!

"MISS SUEBOUMOOTEASEEMEEE!!" The woman summoned her last bit of self-control to give a badly mispronounced admonishment. "This is highly ina...inappropriate....?"

And suddenly there was yarn. A lovely ball of yellow yarn, squishy and stringy and wishing for kitty to play!

"Does _wittle-kitty want the yarn?"_

Oooh, wittle-kitty _does _want the yar—no!

"Who's my _wittle-kitty?_" Mary enticed sweetly, looking up with big eyes full of love. "Who's my _wittle-kitty-kitty kitty_?"

No answer. She wouldn't. McGonagall wouldn't! Mary blinked with sadistic rapture.

"_Who's my wittle-kitty, kitty?"_

Can't...mustn't...don't wanna...The woman found herself suddenly standing at the girl's desk without remembering how she got there, still just barely resisting.

"_WHOOOO'S MYYYY WITTTTTLEE-KITTTTTYYYYYY??_"

Mary squished her eyelids closed and waited, poised with a lover's anticipating grin. There was the slightest pause, the kind of pause that decides one's fate.

"....I am." McGonagall reluctantly admitted, defeat washing over her. She looked down with shame while Mary beamed enthusiastically and held before her the yellow prize.

"_Good_ kitty! Now, _go fetch the yarn, kitty!_"

In an instant McGonagall had forgotten her previous humiliation, eyes and attention focused solely on the ball of yarn. In a dash she chased after it across the classroom, ending up behind her desk to find it squashed near the rubbish bin. She snatched up the yarn and smiled triumphantly, clutching the yellow victory to her chest and kneading it between fingernails. She rose, turning excitedly to show Mary her success.

But Mary was gone.

A few corridors away a girl cackled madly to herself, all the way to Potions class.


	3. Step 3: Be an Individual

_I was told by someone to post the rules I've been breaking. So, I'll do that for the next chapter or something...I'll figure it out. Stay tuned._

**The Path to Awesomeness**

**Step 3: Be an Individual**

_This_ class she found early down in the familiar dungeons, even before the professor could show. Sans books (she'd have to retrace her steps and find them later...) but that wasn't really important at the moment.

What _was_ important proved to be the group of fellow Slytherins congregating in the hall. Her brethren. Her pals. Sus..._amigos_. The sad few who would suffer in class with her all year long.

...She kinda hated them.

"Well, if it isn't _Miss America_," One particular pretty boy with platinum blond hair and a rodent face taunted. "Come to disgrace us all with your presence?"

He proudly accepted the hoots and hollers from his equally ugly bunch and folded his arms in some unearned triumph.

Then he waited.

And...waited. He seemed a little frustrated.

"What's the matter, _America_, are you as _deaf_ as you are _dumb?_"

Another round of jeering stilled to an immature hush.

"Draco," A fat thing behind him whispered much too uncertainly, "I don't think she even realizes we're talking about her."

"Of course she does!" Draco snapped.

The little blond boy squirmed a bit regardless of how sure he pretended to be. By now most of the Gryffindors were flooding into the dungeon corridor so he had to act fast if he'd do any more damage.

"Filthy muggle. Filthy_ mudblood_. Probably _is_ deaf."

This Mary took notice of, but not really in the way he'd hoped.

The standard Fonzie pose with both thumbs up and a crooked smile was his only response, and for this the boy looked as if he'd cry.

"'Eeeyyy."

Before anyone else could say a word, their professor – clad in exceptionally black robes and customary mask of doom – appeared behind the group and commanded them all inside, not failing to miss the look of shock on Mary's face.

"Miss Suevu...Miss _Sue_," Snape quickly determined her name would be shortened, grimly sneering down at her open surprise, "do close your mouth. It is most..._unbecoming_."

So Batman was her Potions Professor and not the janitor after all...shucks.

She seated herself in the back, the lone student shunned by both Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, and unwound into a more comfortable position. She took a good long look around. Jars of unidentified bits of horror surrounded her on every available spot on the wall. Several disgusting things sat on the desks. There was a mouse gnawing on something questionable in the corner...

If she listened carefully the tiniest bit of whimpering could be heard from somewhere on her left.

Mary closed her eyes, finally at ease.

The greasy man went through his self-important shtick, telling them all what to expect in the months to come and his general negative expectations at their success. Sounded absolutely _awful_, downright _disgusting_.

Music to her ears.

She smiled, eyes closed, breathing in the oozing fears of everyone else in the classroom. The girl hadn't noticed the dark looming figure standing overhead, threatening to kill her with one of those god-ugly sneers.

"Why haven't you a book and intermediate set? You were to have a cauldron ready for today's assignment."

Lazily she cracked an eyelid, sad to be disturbed but also too indolent to care.

"Do you want the truth or a pretty lie?"

Snape sneered and flashed a few really nasty teeth.

"Backtalk will not be tolerated. I expect you to come prepared.

"Ten points from Huffle –"

"– Ooop," the girl waved a cautionary finger. "Forget something? Not a Hufflepuff."

The man face twisted momentarily with loathing. Then after a moment's silent debate, Snape narrowed his eyes as if to say 'I hate you' and stalked away.

"Professor Snape," Another girl's accusatory tone broke the mood. She sounded rather whiny Mary noted, as her eyelids closed once more.

"We should _all _have to participate in today's assignment. It is hardly fair if one student is exempted when the rest must work."

"Miss Granger, may I suggest concerning yourself with your own studies and leaving me to deal with...Miss Sue..." He groaned inwardly at the tragedy of it all. His lip twitched in a hopeless frown.

"But sir –!"

"Today's potion shall be tricky even for _you_, Miss _Granger_."

The way he spat her name intrigued Mary, who finally granted him her attention. Snape sneered at the Gryffindor's words but after a few seconds ducked into another room, only to remerge carrying a very old rickety cauldron and an even worse looking scowl.

He darkly towered over Mary and let the cauldron drop to the table with a thud.

"You shall come prepared by next class or you'll be polishing mine for the rest of the school year."

"Is that a date, professor?" She gave a fruity smile and winked. Then under her breath she purred to him a seductive chide, "Sinner."

Snape quickly surveyed the room with wild mortification, fearing someone had heard that last remark. Luck kept the other students too involved with their potions to care. For that, Mary lived.

He snarled a silent threat of detention and went back to his desk to sulk gloomily and grade papers.

What an odd fellow.

Mary shook her head and forgot all about Mr. Batman, concentrating instead on the crap which lay before her. Most things she hadn't even heard of, none the less knew what to do with them.

But she found, by copying someone else's motions at the next table, the ingredients wouldn't be too hard to arrange once she ditched the ceremonial scythe and used her own blade. It was rather funny to see her plow into a puffer-fish egg, watching the contents first get mashed beyond recognition just to be spread out in long ugly cottage cheese sheets that glittered in the eerie light of the dungeon. She was having way too much fun with this, throwing the ingredients unceremoniously into her cauldron, snorting once or twice, cackling like an old witch thick in the process of making a poisonous apple.

Propriety be damned!

Then she thought, why follow instructions at all? Why not take the game to the next level? So instead she made glorious effort to do everything backward, in reverse order, just to see what happened. The ugly green sludge she stirred soon almost, but not quite, resembled nothing close to the light yellow potion in everyone else's cauldrons.

She cackled with pleasure, wondering what would happen once she added yet another egg (this time whole) to the bubbling mix. In her enjoyment she hadn't noticed a sudden guest.

"What," Snape's lip quivered with unabashed loathing, "in Merlin's Name do you think you are doing?"

Mary looked up and smiled innocently.

"Fun isn't it? This one squishes."

"Get up."

"I'm sorry," She held the raped egg out to him, realizing her silly error. "Did you want to try, too?"

"I said, get _up_."

Snape glowered darkly as he waited for the girl to do as ordered. By now the pair had earned the attention of several other students, one long-faced Gryffindor boy in particular so intent in staring that he alone noticed Mary's cauldron boiling over madly. It intrigued him to see someone else's potion (for once) be worse off than his.

This was the last straw as far as the professor was concerned. Slytherin or not, he couldn't fathom why anyone this irresponsibly retarded would be allowed into Hogwarts, let alone his domain. It would do no good to kill her now, with witnesses. But the man's bald outrage couldn't be tamed.

"Leave my classroom."

Mary frowned and folded her arms.

"Uh...not so much, _herr doktor_. We still have twenty minutes."

For a man who hadn't been told 'no' often, Snape took it quite gracefully.

"OUT INTO THE HALL, NOW." His snarl was that of a Peruvian Vipertooth as he glared daggers at the girl, quickly barking orders to "GET BACK TO WORK" at whoever was dumb enough to watch.

He gripped her by an unwilling arm and proceeded to drag her to the door himself. She looked slightly cross but he looked _deadly_, so after a bit Mary allowed herself to be lead. She only kicked and screamed a few times for good measure.

During this no one, and I mean no one, had enough sense to help the now flailing Gryffindor boy calm Mary's cauldron. Just before the two could exit the room in a tizzy, an ear-deafening explosion caught everyone off guard, sending Snape bounding into the girl.

For a moment there was silence. And then screaming. Lots and lots of screaming.

"My arm – it's GROWING! Oh Merlin, it's too big to move! I'm stuck to the floor!!"

"I can't stop my hand from swelling. The skin is splitting! Someone HELP!"

"Meh WHHHIP, Meh WHHHIP! Meh WHHHHIP IS MUUUGGGGEEHHH!"

"Get _off_ me, Fat-man! I'm a little tiny woman."

Snape quickly put a few inches in between them and, with very subtle self-control, removed his hands from what may have been a felony.

"What happened?" Snape demanded of the Gryffindor boy – who had since become something grotesque (and will not be described further except to say that if a giant pile of shit were to have a mouth, eyes, and nose, yeah...he'd be awfully jealous of that pile...)

_Blubber._

Snape asked again, showing obvious disgust. The pile – er, Gryffindor boy only got more upset.

_BLUBBBER! BLUBBER!_

With the deftness of one who frequently has to correct the mistakes of dunderheaded children, Professor Snape bounded into an adjacent room and returned carrying an armful of little brown vials.

"Distribute the Swelling Antidote to those affected," He regarded Mary like one would a paper bag filled with vomit, and handed her half his stash. "We will discuss your detention after class."

"Like I haven't heard that before," Mary rolled her eyes and _tched_ under her breath.

She didn't fail to notice the smug approval of that one blond rat-faced Slytherin boy, whose recent abnormalities actually worked in his _favor_. A few girls blushed as he separated himself from his ugly group of lackeys, only to stand erect and self-satisfied in his naughty display.

"Wow Draco, I didn't know you had it in you." Purred one girl with a giant forehead.

"Yeah, Pansy better watch out." Giggled another with an ass the size of Hagrid.

Mary rolled her eyes and continued throwing vials at people. This was until Snape specified those affected were to _drink_ the potion. She was quite sad but made sure to at least hit the blond boy square in his enjoyment before she had to stop.

After everyone's appendages had returned to their normal size, Snape roughly dismissed the group and sneered down at the one girl who was told to stay.

"Alright, before you yell – you have to admit that seeing rat-boy grow six times his normal size was funny. Disgusting and may, in all probability, cause nightmares, but _funny_.

"Especially since the biggest hard-on of his life came from a potion meant to make you grow _exceptionally _large – and yet he was still only slightly bigger than standard issue. I mean, how small is he really?"

She cackled, diffusing Snape's anger (although he would never admit to it). Instead he assigned her Saturday detentions for the rest of the year and demanded she leave immediately.

Just as well, she had to get to her next class anyway.


	4. Keep a Detailed Account of Everything

**The Path to Awesomeness**

**Step 3.5: Keep a Detailed Account of Everything.**

"_Today I started a diary. This was until I realized how boring diaries actually are. I threw that piece of garbage out the window and stole a new journal from one of my bunkmates._

_Below is a list of things I've already tried here at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and things I WANT to try in the future. Apparently, no one has gotten this far before. Should be quite interesting to see where it leads, eh?"_

LIST OF THINGS I'M [NOT] ALLOWED TO DO HERE:

1. I will not refer to the Accio charm as "the force" **[check!]**

2. I am not allowed to taunt Professor McGonagall with Catnip **[check!]**

3. I am not allowed to cackle whenever practicing magic. Real wizards don't get it. **[check!]**

4. It is a bad idea to tell Professor Snape he takes himself too seriously. **[check!]**

5. I will not follow potions instructions in reverse order just to see what happens. **[check!]**

6. I shall not give Professor Snape a bottle of shampoo for Christmas (-- although he desperately needs it)

7. Using the Engorgio charm on certain parts of the human anatomy is not permitted on school grounds, not even for entertainment purposes (--got this good idea from class earlier!)

8. I will not sit on Dumbledore's lap and tell him what I want for Christmas this year (-- Don't look at me like that; you only wish you could, too)

9. I am not allowed to draw mustaches, glasses, scars, devil horns, or other paraphernalia on the paintings in Hogwarts while the subjects are sleeping. They will not find it amusing

10. ...

"_Goodness, look at the time! I guess I'll have to update this bastard later on. _

_Next up is Muggle Studies with Professor...Binns? I'll see which rules I can break with that poor lost soul. MWHAHAHAHAHA...." _


	5. Step 4: Confront Your Ghosts

**The Path to Awesomeness**

**Step 4: Confront Your Ghosts**

Up until this point the girl had faced many exciting things, like talking hats, living portraits, the Incredible Aging Cat-lady, and the meanest greasy butthole this side of Transylvania. But none of this, NONE of this prepared her for the delicious fun which was Professor Binns.

For the seventh time that morning she grinned openly as he repeated a single word over and over and over again in his dull, toneless manner.

"Bueller?

"Bueller?

"...Bueller?"

It was pure luck that allowed Mary to obtain his roster before class and she didn't regret one moment of it, though no one else really got the joke. Shame too, as her cackle alone wasn't doing this justice.

"Bueller?"

"Ugh – Professor Binns?" That same girl from earlier burst with impatience, looking bored out of her skull, "I'm fairly certain there is no one named 'Bueller' in our class. I don't even think there is a 'Bueller' in all of Hogwarts. Can't we move on?"

"Miss Granger, I believe? I'm sorry but until I find where our Mr. Bueller has run off to, I can't simply skip past him."

Several groans and one pronounced cackle were heard around the room.

"You," hissed the bossy girl, rounding on Mary. "_You_ had something to do with this, _didn't _you?"

Mary gave a look of innocence, trying desperately to keep from peeling into a sadistic grin. The other girl huffed angrily then went back to conspiring between her two guy friends.

"Bueller?"

The rat-faced boy had taken to charming paper airplanes into attacking some of the more easy-looking Gryffindor targets. The fat lump that hung on his every move was laughing unintelligently in the wrong direction.

"Bueller?"

Two Slytherin girls had tried, for a good amount of time, to get Mary's attention by giggling and whispering secrets to one another behind her back. After another moment's fruitless effort, they turned their muggle-hating attention onto a small Gryffindor girl.

This gave birth to the chaotic mess which would soon be known as Purebloods vs. well, _Not_ Purebloods.

"Bueller?"

The Purebloods gathered into a group to start plotting, casting dark looks at their _Not_ Pureblood foes, while the _Not_ Purebloods sat uncomfortably in their chairs waiting to be told how to proceed. The long-faced boy looked around nervously while the bossy girl from before folded her arms.

For some strange reason Mary had taken to humming and snapping along with a Latin beat.

"Bueller?"

"Stop saying that!" Bossy Girl suddenly snapped. This threw the room into battle mode.

"Sharks!" Mary shouted encouragingly above the din.

"What are you gonna do about it, _mudblood?_"

"Jets!"

"Impedimenta!"

The boy with the staircase tattoo on his brow stepped up and hit Rat-Boy with something nasty. Rat-Boy promptly froze up and toppled to the ground.

Wands broke out on both sides, people screamed, several were hexed, and one plump little Gryffindor boy actually got stepped on when he fell to the floor.

Several times Mary could have helped him, but instead sat there wishing she had popcorn.

"Bueller?"

Binns didn't seem to notice either way. His roster was held before his nose and his dull voice continued to press on.

"Draco!" a pug-faced girl shouted with a weird mixture of concern and disgust. She rounded on Staircase-Tattoo. "How dare you!"

Her bat-bogey hex bounded off Binn's roster and hit some Ginger kid instead.

"Ron!"

"Jets!"

"Neville, Neville...are you okay?" Someone pulled a boy out of harm's way. "Neville?" He didn't respond so the girl shot a spell at the last Slytherin to step on him.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Sharks!"

Some of the portraits ran off to find help.

"I'll make you pay, _Potter!_"

"This is awesome." Mary leaned back in her chair. She had only just remembered the half-eaten bag of mini marshmallows in her robe's pocket. She munched happily.

"Bueller?"

It was getting serious up in here. Bossy Girl and Staircase-Tattoo rounded up their group, the _Not_ Purebloods, and set into action a plan of sorts. The Purebloods also gathered into a group but were much less structured and kind of broke apart to fight alone again.

Faces contorted with anger. Wands pointed dangerously. The beginnings of World War III were hot on their tips.

"WAIT!"

The sound of Mary's scream broke their concentration. All turned to her, expectantly.

"If you're gonna have a rumble, at least do it _right_."

All watched as what looked like a muggle demon was taken off the desk of Professor Binns (whose ghost was still not 'all there'). Like magic, Mary took an odd-looking rectangular biscuit out of her pocket and fed it to the beast. There was a swirl of grinding and a confused _click_ deep within its bowels.

Then the song she'd been humming churned loudly from the demon's bumpy black eyes.

"Always bring a West Side Story cassette tape, just in case." She smartly answered the question on everyone's face.

Then she crossed the room once more, sat at her desk, took up the mini marshmallow bag, and waved at everyone indifferently.

"Carry on."

"...Bueller?"

The battle was ON, but no one was dancing. No one sang songs. No one wore _tights!_

Mary's brow wrinkled with disappointment.

"Come _on_," She sighed exasperatedly over the grunts and screams, "doesn't _anyone_ know ballet? It's step-step-turn-_step_-fouetté-en-tournant! Not step-step-turn-turn-fall-over-backwards!"

"What is she even _on?_" The pug-faced girl sneered as she shot another hex, making a face even worse than the first.

Staircase-Tattoo looked equally put out as he hit some poor Pureblood with a curse.

"Someone must have confounded her."

"Or _something _like that," Bossy girl muttered skeptically as she punched some boy in the face.

"Bueller?"

"Enough!"

Batman had arrived in a fury, fully clad in black robes and trademark nasty sneer. With deft familiarity he had ended the battle. The portraits cheered triumphantly at no broken frames.

"Way to go, _Officer Krupke_." Mary intoned bitterly. She never even got to see them dance.

Snape's instinct, after disarming everyone in the room and pushing them back to their corners, was to blame Mary. Which he did. Vividly. She alone was unharmed, finishing up a bag of mini marshmallows at her desk.

"What did I do?" She asked between bites, crumpling up the empty bag. "I'm not even a part of it."

"Sir," Rat-boy sucked up with well-rehearsed loyalty, nursing a broken nose, "It was all Granger's fault."

"Draco, you prat; no one would even _believe_ that nonsense!"

"I said _enough_. _Langlock!_" And with that, all those bickering were silenced.

Snape looked to Mary once more who, at some point during this time, had struck up a conversation with Professor Binns.

"...Yes, but _why_ are you here?"

Binns thought deeply about it, wearing a pensive frown. It took him a while to process, like everything else.

"I'm not quite sure why I didn't pass over, if that's what you mean. I never feared death, which traditionally is the reason one becomes a ghost.

"But, I'm happy to have stayed. In fact, it was staying that earned me the tenure I wanted during life, but never had the opportunity to achieve."

Mary nodded, mulling this over.

"What about unfinished business?"

"No, I shouldn't think that's the reason. Why, all my personal affairs were quite well attended to ages ago, I've nothing left to worry on. No unfinished business in any respect of the word!"

He chuckled airlessly like a sloth would...if sloths could chuckle.

A bright light suddenly struck through Binn's chest, causing the ghost to yelp. This was the first time in almost a decade he moved with some swiftness in his step.

"Wha – what is...?" The light got brighter and another stream broke through his neck. "No! No _please,_ not yet!"

Another few streams pierced his arms as he turned to Mary, who had the biggest smile ever.

"Why you wicked, _horrid_ girl! You tricked me! Noooo!!!!"

With a soft _pop_, Professor Binns was no more.

The class gasped silently, each face a mask of horror.

"What...did you...do?" Even Batman looked too shocked to scold, barely managing a whisper.

Mary turned back to them all, getting a few shudders and one quite noticeable twitch. She stared for a while without saying anything then casually shrugged.

"...He _annoyed_ me."

"That's no reason to send him to the...the..._next plane of existence!_" Snape ground out angrily.

"Well, it's not like he even taught us anything."

This the class had to agree with. Even that Bossy Girl agreed to some extent (although she felt very wrong in doing so and wished poor Professor Binns well, wherever he was).

Snape took off the silencing charm and dismissed everyone but Mary.

"You..." Snape's mouth settled uneasily into a grimace, "will be escorted to the Headmaster's Office. Forget your next class."

"Chill out, dude; I'm sure Binns is looking up right now at the both of us, wondering why he didn't cross over sooner."

Snape grabbed her arm and took Mary from the classroom by force.


	6. Step 5: Assume the Position

**The Path to Awesomeness**

**Step 5: Assume the Position **

"Enter," Dumbledore beckoned lazily, nose-deep in his work. There was no need for interrupting the task at hand; the Potions Master could let himself in as usual.

The old wizard was quite busy today with a matter of utmost importance. His entire morning had been spent hunched over this very desk, a look of determination in his eyes as his nimble fingers sorted through an assortment of small round green-striped pieces. After careful examination and much debate, Dumbledore was certain he'd finally found _the one_.

His hunt was over.

With a gleam in his eye, he plucked a single peppermint from the sea of spearmint lookalikes, unwrapping it with unhurried appreciation and giving a sigh of relief. He'd thought he ate them all earlier but...still one left.

Tee hee, he tapped his fingers together joyfully.

"Hello beautiful," The old wizard whispered to his hard candy. "At last, we meet."

Just as Dumbledore savored his goodie, a man clad in full black and intimidating scowl burst into the room. He dragged something yet unidentified behind him, making quite a fuss. To his credit, Snape made it almost completely through the door before his left arm gave a sudden freakishly strong effort not to enter, shook violently, elicited an unprofessional string of profanity, and ended in a rebellious tug-of-war.

Snape looked fairly ridiculous. Dumbledore wondered if laughing would make him sad.

"Do. Not. Make. Me. Hex. You. _Again._" Snape ground out dangerously to his mystery guest, using his free arm to gain the upper edge. "I promise not to _smother the_ _flames_ this time."

His left arm seemed to think this over.

After a moment it gave a reluctant sigh and went flax.

"Ah, Severus." The old wizard greeted with feigned surprise and candy-muffled amusement. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

For a moment Dumbledore smiled amiably, sucking on his peppermint candy like a child at the movies. But then Snape's not-so-happy companion was dragged completely into the room, arm locked in a vice-grip—

"Miss Suevoumonteasey?"

This was genuine surprise on Dumbledore's face, a rare sight indeed. Although he fully expected Severus, he had not at all predicted Mary.

"Shouldn't you be in class, my dear? If memory serves it's just about the hour for Charms."

He consulted an ancient pocket watch which confirmed as much. With a thoughtful frown the Headmaster peered at her above half-moon spectacles.

"Did something happen?"

Dumbledore glanced warily from the girl to Severus, who for the last few minutes had been glaring at poor Mary with a look that could kill. This wasn't really surprising in itself but the fact the old wizard could literally feel the heat of Snape's stink eye all the way from across the room where he sat at his desk...well...

"Merlin, I hope it isn't serious."

"Ask _her,_" Snape suggested darkly.

Both men looked to Mary for a response. Any response. A blink perhaps. A sign of life as we know it...

When the girl continued in her blissfully unaware state, Snape sneered and jabbed her unkindly in the ribs.

"Ow, meatbag." Mary muttered under her breath, rubbing the point of impact. "That _hurt._"

Snape didn't care, you could see it in the impassive sneer he shot back. Rolling her eyes, Mary reluctantly met the gaze of Dumbledore.

"...So...uh, guess who's _not_ coming to dinner?" This was her shot in the dark, shrug and unhelpful frown set in place.

Snape stopped this immediately.

"What Miss Sue _means_ to say –" The man winced as Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, silently wishing he could remember her whole damned name, "–is that today in Professor Binn's class, Miss Sue..._Mary_...w-well, she...."

He was at a loss for words, a first for the professor. The man looked very put out and worked his mouth in silent debate. Then, dryly, Snape croaked the terrible truth of it all.

"He's _gone!_"

Dumbledore sat unaffected. Severus wondered if he'd spoke at all. He frowned.

"Did you not hear me?

"I said he's gone, _finished_, moved on to another...another..._SHE KILLED HIM_," He shamelessly pointed at Mary, looking exactly like a child ratting out the friend who broke Mummy's lamp. He may have also pouted but we'll never know.

"...Killed who?"

"Professor Binns!"

"Ah."

Dumbledore went back to peering into his candy jar, having just recently finished his last peppermint. Now he'd have to settle for spearmint. He didn't really care for spearmint, never had. In his desk he usually kept a well-stocked selection of peppermint treats, ranging from chocolate confections to funny muggle tubes of peppermint cream. He wasn't really sure why they called it 'toothpaste' but it sure did hit the spot on a hot summer's day.

Unfortunately the old wizard had eaten through most of his reserves earlier that week, leaving just half a roll of toothpaste and a questionable bag of sweaty after-dinner mints that he couldn't remember buying in the first plac—

"WHY DO YOU ACT AS IF NOTHING IS WRONG?"

Snape stared mouth agape at this stunning lack of concern. His own shaky moral fiber was scandalized into shame as the Headmaster frowned suddenly, sighed, grabbed a strange white tube out of his desk, and proceeded to eat from it. As if...as if...

"I was wondering when he'd get to passing over. Always slow to task, that one. Although I do wish him well wherever he ended up, naturally."

Dumbledore gave a small nod in memorial.

"—Would you like one, my dear?"

In a flash of white-hot fury, Severus watched as Mary accepted a little green-striped candy from the Headmaster, who still hadn't reacted appropriately at all. This was just too much.

"I demand to know why you aren't affected by this, Dumbledore."

The older man looked up and frowned as if to say, 'you poor fool, I knew it would happen all along'.

"_Severus_," Dumbledore gently reasoned, offering a seat to his younger colleague. He didn't take notice of Mary's tongue as it stuck out at the other man, nor did he see her one-finger gesture.

"Of course it affects me, Severus. It saddens me greatly that Professor Binns is no longer with us.

"Why, _now_ I've to find a replacement, and being this far into the school year, it will be almost impossible to locate a respectable applicant – I'll have to settle for another school's reject. Or worse."

The old man sighed at the hopelessness of it all.

"I suppose it wouldn't be _such_ a dire affair, had I a backup instructor on standby. But I'm afraid no one else on staff is fluent enough in muggle ways to teach the subject, besides perhaps myself of course."

Dumbledore took a moment to eat a bit more toothpaste, savoring the cream as it stuck to his lips. He smacked them together happily.

"But honestly I've not the time to oversee an entire class, even if just for the one hour a day. Sadly, although I fully expected Binn's departure, I admit this still comes as a shock."

The old wizard sighed and capped his treat, missing the peppermint on his breath already. He sighed wistfully at his near-empty drawer and shook his head.

Snape looked positively ill.

"But wait –" Dumbledore's eyes suddenly twinkled with plotting, the bobbing shape of a tongue rubbing loose a bit of paste seen beneath his cheek. "Am I correct in believing this to be _your_ free hour, Severus?

"You've some experience in muggle society; perhaps you would see fit to take on another's workload until a more suitable replacement is found?"

The other man paled. As disgusting as it was teaching potions to a bunch of dunderheaded children, Snape just could not _fathom_ trying to teach those same dunderheaded children potions _and_ muggle studies without going insane and taking a few brats down with him.

Muggle studies? Was Dumbledore _mad?_ Most of it wouldn't be too hard; just throw a few tea bags at them while playing the Beatles and that would just about cover muggle London as he knew it.

But just leave it to one of those little bastards to ask something uncomfortable one day, like how muggle contraception worked or some such nonsense.

Just how in the world was he going to explain the concept of 'double baggers' and 'baseball' to a pack of unruly kids? His father had a hard enough time trying to explain it to him, and he _was_ a goddamned muggle. It just wouldn't work out.

His mind swam with excuses but Luck was on his side.

(At least, Luck pretended to be on his side just long enough to give him a false sense of security.)

"Is this a turntable, Santa?"

Both men looked back at Mary's sudden interruption. She had, somewhere during this time, left the desk to rummage through one of Dumbledore's locked cabinets. Don't ask how she got around the ironclad lock; best we let that little loophole go for now. Fact is she was now neck-deep in contraband, holding a big square box with a glass lid out like a prize.

"Vintage – _awesome_. Looks pretty well taken care of, too. Santa, is it yours?"

"Ah," The Headmaster smiled, growing quite fond of his new nickname, "I see you've found my hidden secret.

"Yes, I picked that little gem up years ago from an exotic muggle gathering of merchants and vagabonds I stumbled across during one of my many travels." He chuckled for a moment at his expertise in muggle culture, "'The Flea Market' it was called, quite exciting, quite exciting indeed.

"I haven't seen that mystery box in some time." He admitted with a sigh, feeling a bit foolish for tearing up at the memory.

"I'm afraid I never did find out what it was or how it worked. I tried everything; talking to it, tickling it, using Cistem Aperio as one would any other locked chest. I even went as far as to cast Specialis Revelio. Nothing.

"Quite the mystery. The muggle who sold it also parted with the box beneath, the one full of lovely black discuses. I've flied a few in my day but, alas, they are quite fragile –"

Dumbledore immediately went silent, tears swelling in his twinkling eyes. Music began to fill the room, a bit bumpy at first but soon finding its groove along the many whistles and random noisemakers in the Headmaster's Office. Mary lay on the floor propped up by her elbows, fully appreciative of the 'magic box' before her, watching as its needle-nose bobbed gently over one of the discuses.

Somehow, magically, Mary had brought his box to life.

"_Merlin,_" The old wizard's astonishment mingled with fresh tears, "In over forty years I've never been able to –" He wiped his eyes clean on his purple sleeve and sniffed.

Mary shrugged.

"Don't cry, Santa. Wasn't much to it. Just had to plug it in –" She indicated the box's long rubber tail, "– put on a record –" Mary held a discus in her hand and turned it from side to side, "– and flip the switch. The turntable does the rest for you."

With that she pointed to the box's single black eye and shrugged again.

Dumbledore stood in amazement and clapped.

"My girl, your intimate knowledge of the muggle world is astounding. In less than two minutes you've managed to uncover an enigma that's plagued me for over two _decades_.

"Truly, what joy it is to find one's self in the presence of genius while facing a rather special circumstance. We seem to be short one Muggle Studies professor. Severus," the Headmaster barely acknowledged the shell-shocked man standing opposite his desk, "you are relieved of my request.

"It seems we've found Professor Binn's replacement after all."


	7. Step 6: Make Your Own Luck

**The Path to Awesomeness**

**Step 6: Make Your Own Luck**

Of all the rotten things life had done to him, this was probably the worst. Okay, fine, he supposed 'got your best friend killed' and 'became Dumbledore's go-to man" were a bit higher on the list. But _this_ was definitely gaining full-speed ahead.

First the girl had to be placed in _his_ House rendering him completely useless, unable to punish her without taking a hit on points himself. That pissed Snape right off. Then Mary..._dispatches _poor Binns and makes a total mockery of his classroom. And now..._now_...

He shuddered to think on such madness.

Had she been anyone else she'd face expulsion, a hearing by the Ministry, perhaps even a_ Kiss_...but oh no! Dumbledore throws out common sense and promotes her to goddamned _Muggle Studies_ professor.

...Muggle Studies?

Snape screwed up his face for a moment, thinking that over. Muggle Studies. Muggle Studies..._Muggle_...

Something seemed –

"Isn't it completely _awesometastical_ Santa promoted me? Shame he totally failed though, making me go to class, too..." Mary grumbled that last bit.

The nerve he had expecting someone like her – a new PROFESSOR and everything – to finish school. I mean, sheesh, it's not like she had to _know_ anything. Just stand there and look intimidating, hand out some bogus assignment once and a while to throw them off the scent, and threaten students into doing your will. There really wasn't much more to being a professor than that. Batman proved this much.

Mary gave him a quick one-over and _tch'd _under her breath. That greasy butthole didn't care about her misery; he enjoyed it. GAH! This looked hopeless.

At this rate she might have to actually learn something, damn it.

Snape glared daggers at her, knowing all-too-well what Mary was thinking. Oh, the man dared not actually _look_ into her thoughts; he might not survive that madhouse. But the general impression was stamped on her face as she went through the motions of 'happiness', 'resentment', 'hunger' (?), and finally 'acceptance'.

They rounded another corridor in the familiar dungeons and came upon their destination, him dour-faced and gloomy, and her obviously exploring the more twisted sides of her mind. A First Year who happened to be in the general area squeaked his surprise and ran off to find somewhere less nerve-racking.

"I wonder who I'll make my first victim. Perhaps ratboy –"

"The Headmaster may have been taken for a fool," Snape breathed down into her face once they were back in his office, "but I am not so easily deceived.

"I'm _watching _you."

He glared long and hard at her, allowing the threat to sink in.

After a heated moment in which he thought for sure she'd cry or _something_, Mary simply shrugged.

"First you wanna kill me, now you wanna kiss me. Make up your mind, Batman."

Batman. _BATMAN!_ The girl had the gall to call him such disrespectful –

"Uh...does something seem..._off_ to you?"

Her words surprised him. They weren't laced with sarcasm like usual, nothing foul to be found. There was a genuine sort of insecurity about her, the kind that comes with suddenly realizing you'd been dating the wrong twin, or that your bag of mini marshmallows was a can of tuna all along.

She cocked an eyebrow at his lamp and made a face, tugging halfheartedly on its string.

"....What...do you mean?" Snape dared ask, knowing all along he felt the same.

"Just seems like something's..._off_."

Mary quickly glanced around the room, for some reason very interested in the dank dungeon walls. She ducked her head quizzically around his doorway. She checked under a jar of questionable goods on his desk (and got rightly smacked away by Snape). She shrugged.

Then something far away clicked into place. She gave a puzzled frown.

"Did Binns always teach Muggle Studies?"

"Of course he did!"

Snape's automatic response, a quick snapping of words to make her shut up, was hardly more than that. He was definitely annoyed. Mary had tipped over a jar (as he knew she would), and pigmypuff brains were now staining his desk. Here he was, a grown man in his own office, forced to entertain Hogwarts Most Wanted.

But, as soon as the words left his mouth he too realized something was off.

"Actually..._no_. No, he didn't..."

Now _Snape _was the one looking like a rabbit in the wolf's den, checking to make sure the ceiling wouldn't come down to bite him when he least expected it. Now that he really thought on it, Binns taught _History of Magic_. Not Muggle Studies. It had been this way for several years, long before he was even a student.

So why then did everyone, including the late _late_ Professor Binns, believe it to be otherwise? This wasn't good.

"Think we should let Santa know?"

Snape prodded his aching forehead with a hand.

"Leave Santa out of –"

"_Aha!_"

Snape looked outraged but still Mary pointed and cackled. He'd used that infernal nickname without thinking and now he had to pay.

"I _knew_ it! Don't you just want to sit on his lap and ask for a bicycle?"

"Get out of my office."

"Why so blue, panda bear?"

"I said, _out_."

Mary chuckled, pausing just long enough to throw him a sly wink.

"You want me."

There was a nervous yelp as something potentially deadly missed its mark by a hair.

"Lucky for you," She resumed after dodging the hex (having had tons of practice by now) and plopping down onto his desk, much to his chagrin, "I have others to Charms right now. Pity, as you were proving quite fun."

She rubbed a sorry finger on his desk and pouted.

"But never fear, Naughty Man; You'll get your chance..._at this_..."

She practically hissed her mock-passionate offering, displaying with dramatics her ample bosom just out of Snape's reach. He looked a bit sick.

"Be gentle, my pet."

She pretended to faint ala damsel in distress, making him FUME. Mary sensed his sudden change in mood and addressed his concern with a wave of her hand.

"Don't worry, you're not a pedophile for diggin' me. Lucky for you I'm _legal. _

"Better get used to it, Batman, you're stuck with me for good now."

As we said in the previous chapter, Luck was a flirtatious tart if there ever was one. Seduced Snape just long enough to instill a false sense of security, pull the rug out from beneath his feet, and give him a Wet Willy.

You see, Dumbledore hadn't necessarily pardoned him from this harebrained scheme. Actually, truth be told, Severus would have been better off teaching the class himself. Now he was stuck with this horrid girl as a babysitter of sorts, forced to sacrifice his one free period to supervise. This THIS was the lowest point in his life.

And the little wench knew it.

Mary patted his hand in condolences and by pure accident just barely missed a curse Snape had thrown her way. Something across the room burst into flames upon impact. Cackling all the way off his desk, Mary leapt and turned to face him once more, just about arm's reach from the door.

"Alright, _alright. _I'll miss you, too, Muffin."

Another hex and a few choice four-letter words later, the girl had disappeared from the room. From his spot at the desk, Snape could hear some unfortunate First Year crying from having his chocolate frog card stolen. And Mary's trademark cackle echoing down the corridor. And the sound of that same little boy falling – or being pushed, Snape wasn't quite sure – and smacking head-first into the wall. And more cackling.

Snape sighed.

With a wry frown, he found a piece of parchment and began composing his letter of resignation for the third time that day.

Somewhere not so close by, Mary was getting the wrong directions for Charms class from an enthusiastic painted squirrel. Why she thought the squirrel was a safer bet than the numerous other portraits around Hogwarts, we'll never know. But right now she animatedly listened as it waved its acorn in the air.

"You mean...s_queak_ squeak squeeakk?" She repeated, almost forgetting she didn't talk squirrel.

Her little watercolor friend gave a disgruntled thump in protest. She'd gotten it wrong yet again.

"Squeak _squeeaaak_ squeak," it corrected, showing her in several long loops of an acorn what he meant. His little painted eyes stared up at her, waiting for confirmation before continuing.

"Um...Squeak squeeaaak..._squeeeeker?_"

Mary was complete rubbish at this. Never had she seen a more irritated squirrel. It huffed and showed her the acorn again, slowing the motion down and pausing in between sweeps. It waited.

It squeaked again in annoyance when she made no attempt to respond.

Then Mary got an idea. After a moment of digging in her pocket, she proudly held out a filbert – don't laugh, it's true – and tried to recreate the little guy's instructions. Only her circles were more ovals than anything, her filbert obviously not an acorn, and her pronunciation nowhere near it should be. Spoke through her nose too much, the little guy gathered.

"SQUEAK!" Her squirrel-guide finally shouted, throwing its paws up in defeat and leaving her alone with nothing but a hazelnut to show for it.

"Squeak _squeeeek_ squeak-squeak!" She pleaded but alas, was too late. He had run off to another frame down the hall.

"Bastard," Mary decided and ate the filbert, which turned out to be a button after all.

She spat it out and deposited the gooey evidence in a nearby broom closet. She got out a new bag of mini marshmallows and started eating.

"And _what_ do we think we're doing, enjoying a leisurely stroll? Students are to be out of these halls during class."

She smelt him before turning, a mixture of gangly old man and cat piss unmistakable in the cold air of the third floor corridor. Something about this seemed oddly familiar and Mary screwed up her face in thought.

Just like the rest of Hogwarts, it was almost as if...she'd read this somewhere before. But that was impossible.

"Are ya _deaf?_" The old man forcefully turned her around, knocking the mini marshmallows from her hand.

"– no –" She reached out in vein to catch her spoiled happiness, missing as the bag rained its white guts all over the floor.

He laughed at her despair, not foreseeing the consequences.

"Little know-it-all wand-carriers think you're above the law, ha. Bet you'll have some respect once I take you to the Headmaster's Office."

She sniffed and looked on as his foot crushed a few fluffy white reminders. That was a new bag.

His grizzled laugh didn't bother her. Nor did knowing she was basically being lugged down the hall. In her anguish, Mary had spotted something a lot more interesting that she knew could make things right.

"Kitty?"

Filch stopped dead in his tracks and sweated cold. He _hated_ when students tried to bond with his cat. Mrs. Norris was _his_, no one had the right to talk to her. No one.

Mary struggled free of his grasp to pet the kitty, who hissed and spat with dislike. Filch nearly choked the girl in restraint.

"Just whatdya think your doing? Mrs. Norris is _my _cat, she's not to be touched by the likes of _you_."

He grumbled something in his native old-man dialect, shaking his head with bitterness.

"Mrs. Norris?" Mary repeated incredulously, making a face. "Nah, she's definitely a Peaches.

"Here, Peaches."

"Bite your tongue!" Filch snapped angrily, dragging Mary under an arm yet again towards Dumbledore's office.

He crushed a few more mini marshmallows underfoot, noting silently how much of a pain it would be to clean this hall after he took care of the girl.

"Psst, Peaches," Mary whispered down to the kitty, who looked rather cross. The cat pretended not to hear her.

"You want something _nice_, Peaches? _Peeeeaches..._"

"I said BITE YOUR TONGUE!"

Filch continued to bicker and moan about how rude the student body was this year, foolishly taking his attention away from Mary. His hold on her tightened as they went down a few steps. She let her feet dangle and catch each and every one so the old man had to struggle. Mrs. Norris tried to scratch Mary's ankle, thinking her tactic wrong.

Then, like magic, a little mousey toy was retrieved from somewhere within the girl's robes and the cat immediately ended her tirade. Mary held it out to Mrs. Norris and winked.

"Peaches," Came her innocent whisper of a bargain, "if you trip the old man...all this can be yours!"

Mrs. Norris considered this. She shook her head and continued ignoring the girl. Then her nose betrayed her.

Catnip.

Mary held out the satchel of catnip used previously to get out of detention. She waved it seductively in the air.

"How 'bout it, Peaches...?"

There was a blur of white and orange and the strangest of sounds...like an angry wife strangling her husband after an all-night 'project' at the 'office'.

Before Filch knew what happened he'd fallen down twenty stone steps (not missing a single one of them) and landed with a sick _thwap!_ on his ass, doubling over in pain. Mary, who was unusually lucky and (according to some) practically indestructible, used the old man to break her own fall, got up unharmed, gave kitty the prize, and happily took her leave.

You see, to some small miracle of plotlines, the girl's Charms classroom happened to be in the same corridor.

A moan or two later, Filch finally passed out. Hours later, when the Headmaster and several other professors would arrive on the scene, the man would go on to describe what happened as simply losing his footing – having not remembered the girl who caused his misfortune.

However, for almost two months thereafter, Filch mysteriously was plagued by nightmares of mini marshmallows and slobbery buttons.


	8. Keep a Detailed Account of Everything II

**The Path to Awesomeness**

**Step 6.5: Keep a Detailed Account of Everything II.**

"_OMG, today has been awesome! I singlehandedly exorcized a radical spirit and ended up replacing him after Santa promoted me to Muggle Studies professor. Granted, I didn't actually think Binns _taught_ Muggle Studies, but hey – that's cool. I'm gonna have so much fun with my new class. I wonder if they've ever been to the ghetto..._

_Anyway, sadly I still have to finish classes and 'learn' or whatnot. _And_ that greasy butthole Batman is now permanently on my case as Santa appointed _him_ my official supervisor – as if I even needed one. How lame._

_I ran into some trouble on my way to Charms and now must seek revenge on one _Argus Filch_ for destroying the only bag of mini marshmallows I had in my robe. Now I have to wait until class is done to go fetch another before lunch. Tch._

_Don't worry Mr. Filch, I'll be getting you back soon enough. AND YER LITTLE CAT, TOO, MWHAHAHAHA...._

_*ahem*_

_I've updated my list and have a few more ideas. Just need to find some time to get them done. If anyone has a suggestion, I'm all ears –"_

"–Erm, may I help you?"

Mary put down her journal, cocking an eyebrow at a little midget fellow in a tux who currently stared..._up_ at her. Mr. Beaver! She didn't know Mr. Beaver taught Charms, awww.

The girl batted her eyelashes as she poked him with a stick.

He flinched and struggled to appear taller (though his three foot stature made it all but impossible). Flitwick gave a hopeless sigh and smacked the stick away.

"Class has started. Please put away your...uh...things. And get out your wand."

"You can talk!?" Mary squealed with glee, poking him again just for good measure. "Omg, omg, sing _Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead!_"

He seemed a bit put off so she handed him a lollipop.

"Oh, alright; go ahead and dance first if it will make you feel more at ease."

Flitwick's lip twitched and he wobbled back to his desk without another word.

"Was it something I said?" Mary called after him.

"_Aww, Mr. Beaver's here so I have to go. Check out the list and see what you might like to have added to it."_

LIST OF THINGS I'M [NOT] ALLOWED TO DO HERE:

1. I will not refer to the Accio charm as "the force" **[Check!]**

2. I am not allowed to taunt Professor McGonagall with Catnip **[Check!]**

3. I am not allowed to cackle whenever practicing magic. Real wizards don't get it. **[Check!]**

4. It is a bad idea to tell Professor Snape he takes himself too seriously. **[Check!]**

5. I will not follow potions instructions in reverse order just to see what happens. **[Check!]**

6. I shall not give Professor Snape a bottle of shampoo for Christmas ( -- although he desperately needs it)

7. Using the Engorgio charm on certain parts of the human anatomy is not permitted on school grounds, not even for entertainment purposes (-- got this good idea from class earlier!)

8. I will not sit on Dumbledore's lap and tell him what I want for Christmas this year (--Don't look at me like that; you only wish you could, too)

9. I am not allowed to draw mustaches, glasses, scars, devil horns, or other paraphernalia on the paintings in Hogwarts while the subjects are sleeping. They will not find it amusing

10. I will not ask Prof. Flitwick to sing "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead!"  
Nor will I ask him to sing "We Represent the Lollipop Guild" **[Check!]**

11. Asking "So, when do we learn to saw a lady in half?" is not appropriate.

12. I will not follow the ghosts around and say that "I see dead people."

13. My life motto may not be "what happens in Hogwarts, stays in Hogwarts".

14. Just because my name is Mary, doesn't mean Snape will fall in love with me. So, you know, I shouldn't throw myself at him. **[Check!]**


	9. Step 7: Think Outside the Box

**The Path to Awesomeness**

**Step 7: Think Outside the Box**

Charms was shaping up to be Mary's favorite class so far, despite her initial reservations about the professor.

You see, midgets, as previously stated, always freaked the girl out to no end. She just couldn't understand how nature allowed it. If something was going to go out of its way to be truly frightening, like midgets for example, they could at least have one redeeming quality to soften the blow.

Instead, midgets ran around in tiny versions of real-people outfits, reminiscent of dogs in human clothing. Always selling the lie they were normal. Ha! How could one be 'normal' when forever at ass height?

They were short. They were stumpy. And above all else, they never randomly burst into song or danced.

And they _never_ had to wear a restraint to keep from biting (movies lie).

All in all, midgets were useless little lumps of horror. The last one she came across had been set aflame. Erm...by accident of course...

Anyway, Mary was happy to note Mr. Beaver was a bit different. Sure, he tried too hard and wore a suit (ick), and no matter how much she offered he just would not take that lollipop. But Mary soon discovered that this wasn't all a midget was good for.

They were surprisingly good targets.

Whenever Mr. Beaver wobbled around the room she'd catch him with a stick. And then again. And again. This time harder.

Once she actually managed to knock him down.

But Mary felt rather sad. Poking midgets may have been fun, but she couldn't get the most out of this if he never fought back. He grunted at the moment of impact, yes, but Mr. Beaver never did anything else. Pacifists were evil.

A few more well-placed pokes to the rib and Mr. Beaver looked ready to lose his senses. This was the moment Mary was waiting for, lovely fun! But that annoying bushy haired know-it-all ruined it. She kept insisting they be given an assignment on the first day and right before snapping, the midget relented. Something about feathers and all that hocus pocus.

Mary dropped her stick in disappointment.

Mr. Beaver thought Hermione very clever, indeed, for getting her feather to float a few inches above the desk on the first try. Mary gave her a withering look. No normal child would want to do work; she must be on steroids or something.

"That's nothing," Mary finally scoffed, unable to hold it in any longer. She shot Hermione a look, "y'all check this here shit out."

The girl lay down on the desk, put the feather on her face, and _blew_. Hers sailed a few feet into the air and drifted all the way across the room onto some Ginger's book. Mary sat back up and waved her head saucily in time with a cocky '_mmm-hmm'_ verdict. She snapped her fingers and stuck it to Hermione.

"Booyah."

"Are you retarded?!" Bossy girl snapped, standing bolt upright from her chair. "Honestly, just because you're American doesn't mean _sense_ must take leave of your brain. That, _whatever it was_...Did. Not. Count!"

"Now, now, Miss Granger –" Flitwick considered both girl's achievements and rubbed his chin. "Miss Suevoumonteasey _did_ make the feather float."

"Professor, with all due respect, she didn't even use a wand –"

"Well, that being what it may, you must admit that the feather floated, correct?"

Hermione made several nervous glances about the room, knowing the whole class was now staring at her and smirking. Flitwick moved his stubby little legs rather quickly to get back to his...um...stack of books.

"You all must remember that in times of crisis, you may not always have a wand. Mary, I like the way you think. Very 'outside the sugar-mice box'."

He giggled, trying very hard to forget she'd offered him a lollipop some twenty minutes prior. And that afterwards she'd poked him with a stick. Relentlessly. He'd probably bruise.

More than anything though, Filius Flitwick tried to push down the temptation...despite his self-respect....that a lollipop sounded pretty good to him right now. The professor wondered if she still had it with her.

"We all should learn from Mary's innovation and cunning!"

Hermione looked like she had swallowed a bug. In a great heap of dejection, she managed to fall back into her seat and keep the room from spinning. This surely wasn't happening.

"She didn't even...use a wand..."

"Jealous, much?" Mary teased once Flitwick was out of earshot, which wasn't hard because midgets were notorious for bad hearing. She smirked at Bossy Girl's white-hot temper.

But much to Mary's chagrin, her bushy-haired nemesis said nothing more.

After that, the excitement of class all but died away...until much later as they broke for lunch.

"You think you are so special, don't you?"

Mary turned from the mouth of her dungeon abode to see Bossy Girl, Staircase Tattoo, and Ginger Kid staring up at her in the foyer. Their faces were not kind. She would have laughed at the combination of ugly hair and oily skin but at the moment her stomach longed for mini marshmallows. She couldn't care less about this interruption.

So she did what any sane person would do and turned as if no one was there, but she found the door had been magically sealed. Grumbling something about Nazis, Mary rolled her eyes and turned to face her freckled opponents.

"Yes." She answered simply.

Staircase Tattoo gave an unsure glance between his friends.

"...'Yes' what?"

"You asked if I thought I was special. I answered. Now let me go."

"Why don't you use your _wand?_" Bossy Girl sneered before being pulled back by Ginger Kid. "No, Ron, it's true! She doesn't even have one – I told you."

Mary stood there unimpressed.

Soon a very large angry gurgle erupted from underneath her "I Shake Babies" T-shirt and thrust them all into a very long embarrassed silence. Ron felt oddly at home. Hermione couldn't decide which was more frightening, Snape or this girl's hunger. And Harry, poor Harry, only agreed with the sentiment and rubbed his tummy. He looked behind them towards the doors of the Great Hall.

Most of the other students had already found their way in. He sighed.

All three had only just noticed Mary was wearing muggle clothing. How odd to see it in such a magical setting. You see, Mary had deposited her school robes somewhere beforehand but couldn't bother to remember where. She knew Batman would have a fit but she hated the itchy wool!

On a possibly related note, much later, Filch would find a girl's set of robes in the third floor lavatory and have a flashback of falling down stairs, mini marshmallows, and maniacal laughter. He'd quickly burn these robes and suck his thumb in the quiet of his rickety old chamber.

"Mini marshmallows..." the girl whimpered, feeling her stomach rumble for a second time. She pawed sadly at the door which led to the underground dungeons.

"Hermione," Staircase Tattoo insisted, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, "we should get to lunch. Who cares if she doesn't have a wand?"

"Yeah, 'mione."

"You two can go off if you want," Bossy Girl burst in anger. "I'm staying."

She crossed her arms and stared daggers at Mary, who had looked away and was now staring intently at something across the room behind the three of them.

"This isn't over. I don't know why Professor Dumbledore let you into this school but...but...WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Mary had walked around the Three Stooges to pursue a First Year who had just begun opening a large oak door. With a precision all her own she crept behind him, swiped his stack of chocolate frog cards, and knocked him into the wall all in one fluid movement. He cried.

She munched happily.

"Like I told Santa, he didn't have to invite me." She plopped down on the cold marble floor and folded her legs beneath her, waiting with some interest as Bossy Girl gathered her words.

"I'm a muggle through and through; that whole thing at the café was a fluke.

"I just love mini marshmallows, that's all." Mary shrugged, eating another card.

"I have no doubt of this," A man sneered from behind her, making the other three shiver in fear.

He stared down at her as if she was a stain on his carpet.

"Which is why I know you can't be trusted. Now, as much as it pains me to say it, give Mr. Creevey back his cards."

He indicated the crying boy on the floor by the Great Hall, looking sadly over a broken camera.

"Awww, but _Batman_..." Mary pleaded, turning on the spot. She had a card in her mouth and continued eating despite the deadly glare. "I'm hungry and these three buttwipes won't let me into the dungeons."

Snape sighed like a man who had looked Death in the eye, only to remember Death had no eyes at all and probably shouldn't be able to laugh at him either. With muted shock he discovered a white hair and sighed again. All her fault.

"Not that you're at all interested in propriety, but I'm sure even you understand the concept that 'lunch is to be eaten in the Great Hall'. I suggest you find your robes and –"

"Shit," Mary interrupted and stood up. "I just remembered I had an emergency pack stashed somewhere around here..."

She left the four of them in a hurry, checking behind one of the massive House Point hourglasses. Snape, despite himself, exchanged a startled glance with the three children behind him, who then remembered themselves and scattered off to the Great Hall, fearing a verbal lashing. No longer was the matter of wands important, even Hermione dashed off quickly.

So it was just the two of them now, damn it.

"Just in case something like this happened, always have a backup."

Before Snape could say another word Mary turned around with a happy grin and a bag full of mini marshmallows. She opened the bag with a satisfying _pop_ and got herself a great big handful.

"_Mmmonmph sphome?_" She offered, holding the bag at length for him. Her mouth was full to the brim with fluffy white yum.

"Why...do you insist on ruining my life?" He barely managed to whisper, a loss for words. Snape watched the girl stuff another handful into her mouth once the first was down. He shook his head miserably.

"Just get your robes and leave my sight."

"Sure you don't want some, Batman? They are mighty tasty." Mary offered the bag again. She wrinkled her eyebrows in thought, amazed at herself.

"You know, it says a lot that I'm offering to share. Huh. Before I met you I'd take someone's hand off if they even _thought_ about eating my mini marshmallows.

"I guess that means we have to get married. Personally I've always longed for an Autumn wedding..."

Snape looked like someone had lit his ass on fire. With a start he gritted his teeth and left the scene, a cackle following close behind. Mary called after him, still laughing.

"Does that mean we should see other people, Darling?"


End file.
